Glimpses
by Angry Santo
Summary: The young and world weary Shirou Emiya catches a glimpse of the one whom he will eternally search for.


I was dared by a buddy to write "A non-Holy Grail War setting where Shirou and Saber meet! Like the last one, circumstances are up to you, just so long as you make it believable."

This was my response to his dare, figured I'd put it up here for others to hopefully enjoy.

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"You know…you gave me quite the hard time, for a mere human." Said the thing which used to be a man as it straddled the waist of one Shirou Emiya as the latter lay on an expanding pool of his own blood.

'Used to be' was the best description for what remained of it, for it could no longer receive the title of 'humanoid'.

"At first I thought I had caught me a little itsy bitsy mouse. Imagine my surprise when I learned this mouse had teeth." Continued the Dead Apostle as it almost lovingly caressed Shirou's face with its one remaining hand.

Anyone that looked upon it would wonder how such a thing could even achieve locomotion. One of its arms ended into a broken and burnt stump right above where its elbow would be, a jagged bone sticking out of the lump of carbon that used to be its limb.

"You have no idea how hard it is," Said the thing as its hand trailed down the concussed young man's check. "Not to simply _rip into your scrawny little neck aND DEVOUR YOU WHOLE!" _Its sentence ended in a ravenous scream as its hand encircled the red-heads neck and gripped with enough strength to almost crush his windpipe.

It only had one leg, the other having been cut off at the hip, the placed it had connected to nothing more than mulched meat. Fist sized holes pockmarked its entire torso, giving one glimpses of the long dead organs contained within.

"Oh ohhhohohoho forgive me, my temper escapes me sometimes." Said the creature after a delicate cough, easing his grip on its prey's neck, allowing it to cough as he gulped down the oh so precious air.

It was a miracle that it could even form human speech, a good bit of its face had been obliterated by a great projectile. Leaving it without a nose, depraving it of an eye, yet leaving its mouth completely intact.

"You know little creature, you are not so bad on the eyes." Sad the Dead Apostle as it inched closer to the neck of the bleeding young man. "You might make a good slave, you _have_ killed all the ones I kept around with me, I will obviously need new ones." At this point the half of its face that remained broke into a maniac grin, its crimson eye shining with a cruel light. "And that magecraft of yours! Ohh my! Will I have much fun cutting you apart night after night after night, never allowing you the pleasure of death."

Shirou Emiya attempted to focus, to bring a weapon into his waiting palms, to do anything. But thinking in and of itself was an achievement to his pain addled mind. He could barely stay conscious, much less achieve the necessary focus to use his magecraft.

As the Dead Apostle's serrated maw inched closer and closer to his flesh, Shirou hardened his heart.

He knew he was going to die.

He would take the bastard to hell with him.

The hammer on the back his mind fell, announcing the call to manufacture and demanding more work from his tortured circuits, further draining his already depleted life-force.

As he tried to bring forth a weapon, any weapon that would allow him to end the creature in front of him, a searing heat crashed into his brain, causing him an agony he had only known once before in his life.

The world went blessedly dark a moment later.

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Shirou walked through a forest, the foliage so thick it sometimes felt he was forcing his way forward through a chain link fence. In front of him was a radiant white light, ever so distant as he strode towards it tirelessly.

Without a warning the foliage was simply not there. No longer having the obstruction against which he fought he lost his balance, stumbling forward and falling face first onto the green grass. Grass softer than a down feather mattress cushioning his fall. The bright sun caressing him with a warm loving hand as he took in the scent of clean grass, a great exhaustion crashing into him as a feeling of sweet release engulfed him.

It was as if a mountain had been lifted from his shoulders. A weight that had accumulated little by little, one grain of sand at time, until it became a mass so great and terrible that it had threatened to crush him. The change having been so slow and gradual that he had never even noticed that he was carrying such a burden.

Yet Shirou knew he could not rest yet. He needed to stand, he needed to walk, he had to stride forward. For the longest time that is all he had done, stride forward like a machine, seeking to find something that he had long lost. To find the one for whom he was made, the one who filled him, completed him.

He forced himself to his knees, and looked up. The sight in front of him so radiant as to blind him to all else.

The weariness that had assaulted him forgotten, Shirou sprang to his feet and sprinted to the figure, able only to see her smile, her delicate outline framed against the warm sun at her back.

A strange sound resounding from his throat, a sound he had not made in years.

Laughter.

Shirou was laughing as he ran forward with tears falling down his cheeks.

He was upon her in seconds, engulfing her in a loving embrace as he twirled her around. The musical chimes of her voice joining his in joyous celebration.

Shirou was surrounded by an ethereal beauty mankind was never supposed to see. The realm of the fairies, its smallest glimpse able to drive a man insane in his pursuit of gaining entry.

Its splendor paled when compared with the stunning girl he held in his arms.

The lavender scent, the warmth of her skin, the soft arms encircling his shoulders as he partook of her honeyed lips, his mouth filling with her taste. His senses overloading as he became drunk from _her_.

His beautiful Saber was once more in his arms. Nothing else mattered.

He slowly fell to his knees, his face buried in her belly as he wept from the powerful emotions running rampant within him.

The girl traced her hands through his hair, the sensation sending shivers down his spine. She parted her lips and said only three words.

"Not yet Shirou."

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The world snapped into focus as Shirou drove his left hand forward, crushing the creature's neck on his steel grip.

The Dead Apostle went berserk, being so close to a meal yet denied the sweet blood that was his by right. There was a flash of light that caused the creature to still, fear radiating out of its one remaining eye.

Clutched in Shirou's right hand was a weapon with few peers.

A weapon whose mere presence brought memories both sweet and sad.

A weapon he long forgot how to trace.

Caliburn the Sword of Assured Victory.

With a roar of primal rage, Shirou drove the weapon into the creature's chest to the hilt, impaling the heart which no longer beat. Running on little more than adrenaline, Shirou stood and ran forward, impaling the creature against a broken pillar. He then flooded the construct with his Od, filling it with more energy than even its mystic frame could hold.

Luminous cracks blossomed across the sword, rapidly pulsing at a frantic tempo that perfectly matched Shirou's straining heart.

Shirou immediately released his death grip on the hilt and ran for cover, the Dead Apostle's frantic screams and terrified insults following as he dived over a broken wall. An enormous explosion washed over him a moment later, blasting away his meager cover and sending the young man tumbling across the floor.

Too exhausted to move, Shirou simply lay where he fell and looked at the beautiful full moon as chunks of mortar, metal, and a few pieces of flesh fell all around him.

He lay there, basking in the knowledge that with the Dead Apostle's death, not a single person from the nearby village would again be abducted and killed. They would once again be able to smile and live their lives without fear of disappearing in the middle of the night.

And he could only feel bitter resentment as he recalled the scent of lavender and…_her_.

Resentment that his duty was thrust back at him. Resentment that the mountain was placed once more on his shoulders after it had been lifted. Hatred that the cruel fates would keep him from his beloved even after all this time.

A moment later he began to laugh. The fact that his laughter was not bitter or cynical came as a complete surprise.

He laughed as he recalled the warmth of her skin, the taste of her lips, the sound of her voice.

His exhausted body screamed at him as he pushed himself to his feet and began to stride forward, leaving the ruined and smoking castle behind.

She still waited for him.

He still searched for her.


End file.
